


The Kingdom at the End of the World

by EvasiveWarrior (Emilightning)



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Childhood/Teen AU, Fantasy AU, M/M, also we've got Dee turning into a dragon if you're into that, that's at first but they're adultos later, we've got angst we've got adventure we've got gays
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:41:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22789669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emilightning/pseuds/EvasiveWarrior
Summary: Six friends live in a kingdom that exists on the edge, constantly shrouded in disasters, magic, curses, confusion-- and maybe just a few miracles.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders/Deceit Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders
Comments: 3
Kudos: 18





	1. Fated Meetings

Once upon a time, there was a kingdom at the edge of the world. 

Nobody knew how it got there, or how it was even possible; it simply was. And it always had been. And it always would be.

It was the land of impossibles; of wintry blizzards in the middle of summer that lasted an hour before vanishing, of earthquakes that wiped out entire houses only to have the ground seal itself up instantly, of kisses that could cure death one day and bring it about the next. 

Every dawn of a new day was the potential for a new disaster; every night the potential for a new miracle. The sun would break over the hills that marked the border of the kingdom (and thus, of course, the border of existence) and the people would sharpen their blades, rebuild their fences and patch their roofs, and prepare for another day of unknowables. For everything, of course, was random, and nobody could possibly guess what the kingdom that had no business existing would throw at them.

Except for one small group of friends who almost never met. And truth be told, this is really their story. 

Once upon a time, there lived a reluctant oracle, a determined researcher, a kindhearted gardener, a would-be hero and his twin brother, and a lone shapeshifter. But none of them started out that way, of course. Or perhaps they did. Either way, back when the chaos wasn't quite so chaotic, when the unpredictables were just a little more predictable, they were children.

And that's where the story begins.

********************************

The old torn sheet that served as a makeshift cape flapped behind Roman as he chased after his brother, panting heavily. He lunged, but miscalculated his landing step and fell headlong onto the grass, nearly earning a faceful of dirt. Remus cackled and dodged Roman's outstretched hand by inches once again, then disappeared over the hill. 

The game, one they had played many times before, was simple: Remus would swipe an object-- usually of middling importance-- from his twin's side of their bedroom, then both would don their capes and wooden swords as the game of cat and mouse ensued. They only had one rule: Never get caught. It was an unspoken promise that the game was theirs and theirs alone, and as long as they stayed within the area and neither got seriously hurt, nobody else needed to know. Sometimes if they were unable to play out of others' view, the game wouldn't end for days, which delighted Remus and frustrated Roman beyond words.

It wasn't often that they left the boundaries of their own yard and the visible stretch of dirt road beyond. But this particular chase was of heightened importance. The small homemade doll that Remus gripped in his grubby hands was Roman's most prized possession. It was a fairly plain thing-- white cloth face with clumsily stitched-on black eyes and a small half-smile, dark brown yarn for hair, black clothes, and a crookedly sewn purple cape. Its right hand held a shield fashioned out of a scrap of wood. It had taken Roman over two weeks of painstaking work to make the doll, and although he had made dozens of other little cloth people before and since then, nothing filled him with pride like his little knight. Remus didn't know this, but if it came down to it, Roman was prepared to take drastic measures to get his companion back. He brushed off his dirty hands and knees and sprinted to catch up.

They raced down the hill with the early morning sun glaring in their eyes. It was the best time of day to play, when only the farmers and their animals were awake. The boys could shout their taunts and battle cries without any fear of being seen or heard.

Truly, this was the way they'd spend the rest of their lives if they could. And when Remus finally stumbled over a hidden divot in the ground and lost his balance, giving his twin just enough gain to catch him by the cape and retrieve the treasured knight doll, Roman felt a rush of warm pride and selflessness that he couldn't explain. He felt a little silly-- it was just a doll, after all-- but he knew that he was happy. And this was the way he always wanted to be.

********************************

The sun was just barely up, but Desmond didn't want to wait any longer to open his window. It had been getting colder and colder. Soon the snow would come and he wouldn't be able to open it at all. Not that there would be any reason to; the winter before, the two boys had only run by a handful of times. The rest of the days had been as quiet and cold as the snow itself. 

But this year would be different, of course-- although he wasn't sure if that made it _better_. More interesting, maybe, but he was so used to being alone that the idea of having to share a room with his cousin for the entire winter made him cringe. 

He glanced over at the smaller boy, who appeared to still be asleep in the other bed. Dee hated to admit it, but they probably had more in common than they did differences. Ten months made quite the difference physically-- he was a few inches taller, with wavy golden-brown hair and... well, they didn't really talk about the left side of his face.

In contrast, his younger cousin was scrawny with dark brown hair and eyes, and unmarked pale skin. Despite all that, though, they were both quiet and solitary, each happy to retreat to his own corner of the room when the night came. 

Dee gripped the handle of the window, grimacing when it stuck from the cold and opened with a loud creak. He held his breath and froze while the sheets across the room shifted, then relaxed again when the noise stopped. Slowly, he pried the window open the rest of the way and stuck his head out, leaning as far as he dared. 

It was quiet for several long minutes save the sound of a few barn animals in the distance. In the year and a half he'd been observing this little piece of the Edge from his window, Desmond's hearing had grown sharp and acute, able to pinpoint faraway sounds with a fair amount of accuracy. Not that it had much use in the real world, but it was handy to be able to know when someone was on their way up the stairs so he could close the window and pretend to be reading-- something he'd done plenty of times. It wasn't that he was afraid of being caught; it was just the idea of having to explain _why_ watching those two boys was so important to him. He didn't even fully understand it himself, but the moments in the day when he saw them run by, when he could pretend for just a minute that he was part of whatever game they were playing-- that made everything okay. 

It was cold enough that he could see the sparkling frost on the fields, but just as he began to worry that they wouldn't show up after all, he heard a wild laugh in the distance. A grin broke out across his entire face-- a rare occurrence since he usually tried to smile only on one side or the other. He watched, entranced, as the messy-haired boy in the green scarf came sprinting over the hill, arms flailing as he hollered triumphantly. After a moment, his twin in the red scarf came scrambling over the top of the hill as well, charging with more determination than Desmond had seen from him before. 

"Don't you want a blanket?"

Desmond jumped back in surprise, hitting his head on the window frame. "Ow!" he cried out, face turning bright red. "Jeez, Virgil! Don't sneak up on me!" 

His cousin shrunk backwards, wincing. "S-sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I'm sorry."

"You didn't scare me," he huffed, quickly turning back to the window to make sure neither of the boys had heard his outburst. Thankfully, it seemed they were too absorbed in their game to notice anything else. "And no, I don't want a blanket. If you're cold, get back into bed. I'll close the window in a minute." 

Virgil didn't say anything to that, but he stepped closer to the window. "What are you looking at?" he asked quietly. He seemed to understand that Dee's hostility was just defensiveness. Because he was protecting something important. 

Virgil knew how that felt. He didn't receive a response, but his cousin shifted over slightly, just enough to allow room for one more observer at the window. They both watched in silence as the twin boys dressed in homemade capes chased each other over the golden fields. 

********************************

"You know what would be good?" Roman said aloud after making sure that his little cloth knight was safely secure under his pillow once again. 

"No, what?" Remus asked, hanging upside down on his bed. His shoes sprayed dirt and grass across the quilt as he kicked his feet. 

Roman paused before answering, something he did when he had to deliver something of great importance. "If I had a real knight to go on adventures and rescue people with. That would be the best."

Remus stopped kicking momentarily. "Hey, what about me? I can do that stuff." 

"You never _want_ to rescue anybody," Roman explained exasperatedly. "I need, um... you know, a squire." 

"Well then that's not fair," Remus pouted. "If you get to have a sidekick, I want one too. And he'd be way cooler than a knight. He'd be a dragon." 

Roman snorted. "Sure. Where are you gonna find a dragon? At least knights are _real_."

To his surprise, Remus tumbled off the bed in a backwards somersault and glared at him as he landed. "Dragons are real too, dork-face. And I bet I'll find one before you ever find your _knight_. And your stupid doll doesn't count."

Roman's cheeks flared pink. "He's not stupid!" he shouted, reflexively reaching under his pillow and pulling out the doll to cradle it protectively. "And if you ever touch him again, I'm telling." 

Remus gawked at his brother in silence. Neither of them had ever threatened to reveal their game before-- as petty as it might have been, it was _theirs_. "If you do that, I'm gonna..." He glanced around the room, looking for something adequate to destroy. "I'll just- I'll smash the whole house!" he spat out before storming out of the room, slamming the door behind him. 

Stunned, Roman wondered if he should follow his brother, if he'd gone too far, if he was really as much of a good guy as he imagined himself to be. Thoughts ran through his head until his eyes burned with tears and he fell back onto his pillow, hugging his knight doll tightly.

********************************

Logan had had enough. He couldn't stand to watch the boy try to water the frozen ground for one more minute. He set his book down, carefully marking his page, and hopped down from the chair he'd been perched in for the last hour or so. He'd been trying to read, but somehow kept getting distracted by the curly-haired, clueless boy outside the window. 

He opened the door to the library, frowning at the chilly air, and shuffled over towards the cottage next door. There stood a boy about nine years old-- his age-- wearing a pair of gardening gloves and holding a watering can in one hand. On one of the latest days of autumn. When there was frost on the ground and fog on the windows.

"Hello," he greeted the boy, wondering how he was going to break it to him that his efforts were in vain. 

The boy, noticing Logan at last, broke into a sunny smile. "Oh, it's you! I see you at the library all the time, but you always looked busy. I didn't want to bother you." He removed his dirty gloves and offered his hand. "I'm Patton, nice to meet you."

Logan blinked, taken aback by the verbose greeting. "Um. Well. I'm Logan," he said, shaking the cheerful boy's hand hesitantly. "Listen, I came over here because I noticed you were trying to water something..."

Patton nodded. "Mm-hm. I've been planting different things every season and seeing which ones grow. Most of them don't, but sometimes they turn out really beautiful." He pointed to a vibrant cluster of golden-orange flowers that were partially hidden behind a larger bush. And indeed, they were beautiful.

Well, this wasn't what Logan had expected at all. In fact, he was left at a loss for words. The boy he'd assumed was naïve enough to be planting seeds in a frost-bitten ground was actually... well, okay, that was still what he was doing, but he seemed to know that it wouldn't work most of the time. And he _must_ have known a thing or two about plants if the small patches of resilient flowers were any indication. It was almost scientific, in a way. Like an experiment. Maybe not as organized as Logan would have done it, but still... well, he _hadn't_ done it, had he? 

He felt slightly awkward and ashamed for having approached the strange boy, so he just nodded and prepared to excuse himself, but before he could say anything, Patton was talking again.

"It's getting cold out, though. Do you want to come inside? We have tea and cookies." A slight blush was forming on the tip of his nose and cheeks, but whether it was from the cold wind or his excitement to have found a potential new friend was hard to tell. 

Logan's mouth opened to decline, but he reconsidered. He couldn't go home yet, after all; nobody would be there. So it was either stay in the drafty library and read quietly or go with this oddly kind boy into a warm house with food. 

"I guess I can come in for a little while," he reasoned aloud, mostly trying to convince himself. He offered a small smile, wondering if he wasn't making a completely illogical error by accepting this new person into his life. 

********************************

Desmond didn't know what made him look up from his book right then. If he hadn't, he wouldn't have let his eyes wander out the window even though it was the middle of the day. Nobody was ever out on the fields behind his house in the middle of the day, except the occasional herder. He'd made it a habit to avoid looking outside between mid-morning and late afternoon, because he knew it would only lead to longing and loneliness. 

But for whatever reason, he looked out and saw someone indeed. His heart jumped when he realized that it was one of the twins-- the wild one with the green scarf, whom he'd always harbored a fascination for. He was so caught up in watching him run that it took him a moment to realize what was wrong. Where was the other boy? He had never once seen them apart, ever. And it was always the boy in green chasing the boy in red, never the other way around.

So he really was alone then. But why? 

Virgil noticed his cousin staring out the window. He saw the look of confusion and concern on his face and wondered if he should stay out of it, but Dee gestured for him to come over. 

"What's wrong?" Virgil asked.

"Nothing. I mean, I don't know," Dee said. "I'm trying to figure it out." 

The younger boy was quiet for some time, and when he spoke up, it surprised them both. "He's running away from something."

That was the thought Dee had been avoiding, and it made him frown deeper. "You think so?" he asked quietly. "What would he be running from? He's not afraid of anything." He was talking more to himself than to his cousin, but when he glanced over for confirmation, he noticed that Virgil's face was even paler and more troubled-looking than usual. 

"I was awake even earlier than you this morning," he confessed, looking at his hands and fidgeting anxiously. 

"So? What does that have to do with anything?" Dee said impatiently.

Virgil didn't look up as he blurted out: "I had a nightmare. I've been having a lot lately, actually. That's part of why I'm staying here, you know. To see if I can get them controlled. Or something." 

Dee stared at the dark-haired, trembling boy. "What kind of nightmares?" he asked at last.

Virgil shook his head. "Things... things that happen. Sometimes bad things, sometimes weird things. Sometimes they happen the next day, sometimes the next week, sometimes they never happen at all." 

"What are you saying, Virgil?" Dee asked, more calmly this time. "So you have visions of things happening before they happen?" When the other boy nodded, he pressed on: "And last night, you saw something happening today?" 

"No... I don't know!" Virgil looked to be on the edge of tears now. "It's never in the same order. Once, I dreamed about this giant bird that came down and wiped out an entire farm. And that happened, remember?" Dee remembered. "But before that, there was the tidal wave that opened the pit in the sand. And I dreamed of that too, but that was even longer ago. Sometimes I forget the dreams until the day they happen, and then it's too late."

As they waited for the information to sink in, both boys continued to stare out the window, watching the lone twin pause to catch his breath. His back was facing the hill he had just descended from, so he didn't see the flare of fire that shot out from behind it, nor the smoky-looking black dragon that peered over, looking for prey.

At first neither Virgil nor Desmond could move. Time seemed to halt as they stared at the beast, at the black fog-like aura it produced, at the boy at the bottom of the hill who was certainly no match for a dragon. Nor were the other two boys. Nor was their house; although if the dragon was satisfied with just one prey, there was a chance it would go home without destroying any houses. Staying inside gave them a chance, while leaving would... well, if it didn't kill them, it would change everything. Desmond knew that in his heart, as sure as he knew the sun would rise. 

"There's a big vine on the side of the house," he said quickly and decisively, shoving open the window. "We can climb out and slide down; it'll be faster." 

Virgil looked at him, open-mouthed. He nodded, swallowing his terror, following his cousin out the window and down to the ground below. 

They were in full view of everything now-- "everything" being the boy whose green scarf had fallen off, and the dragon in pursuit, but that was more than enough-- and Desmond hadn't been this exposed to the world in so long that he'd forgotten how utterly _terrifying_ it was, dragon or no dragon. 

The left side of his face, covered in scale-like marks and ridges, had once matched the right. Two years prior, it had begun to change for no reason. None at all. The more his parents had fussed over it, the more people had stared, the more he'd hidden himself from the world... nothing had made a difference either way. His left iris had shifted from a dark brown to a sickly yellow, like a reptile's. 

He'd grown used to it; even though he'd long since gotten rid of the mirror in his room, he'd still catch glimpses of himself in the glass of the window. And he could accept that this was how he'd always be. 

But oh, he'd forgotten how it must look to a person who'd never seen him before. And judging from the look on the wild twin's face, Desmond's half-reptilian face was a new and unexpected sight. 

But that didn't matter now. It didn't matter that he'd never be able to watch the twins again-- if they even _wanted_ to run through the fields near his house now that they knew he lived there. It didn't matter that any small remaining dreams he'd had of joining them in their game were now crushed into dust. It didn't matter. Because the raging dragon was getting closer, and the three boys were directly in its line of sight. 

"It's okay, I have a plan," he spoke at last, lying through his teeth.

"Yeah, me too. Keep running!" The wild boy grabbed one of each of their hands and yanked, dragging the two stunned cousins behind him. 

"What are you doing? We can't outrun a dragon!" Dee yelled, not thinking about how tightly they were holding each other's hands. 

"What, so you just wanted to stand there and get cooked into little burned meat chunks?" retorted the other boy. "Man, I thought _I_ was stupid!"

Before Dee could think of a suitable comeback, he heard Virgil mumble something inaudibly. "What'd you say?" he asked. When Virgil didn't respond immediately, he shouted, "Virgil!", snapping the younger boy out of his state of panic. 

"I- I said, I said there were two."

"Two _what_?" Dee demanded.

Virgil glanced over his shoulder, eyes widening at how close the dragon had come. "Two dragons... in my dream..." he managed to choke out before stumbling to a halt. He fell on his hands and knees and stayed there, breathing rapidly and squeezing his eyes shut. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry. I should've done better..." he mumbled as the other two desperately tried to get him to his feet again. 

"Come on! We have to go!" Dee screamed. A deep, terrifyingly powerful feeling was building inside him. "Virgil... come on, run!" he begged once more, before the dragon swooped down towards the three boys, engulfing them in shadow.

********************************

Roman had never run so fast in all his life. He'd thought that the doll was important to him, but when he'd realized his brother was missing, and then heard the panicked rumors of a dragon flying low over the outskirts of town, he hadn't even stopped to think. He'd just let his legs carry him down the path he and Remus had beaten from years of chasing each other in their silly game. Down the field, over the top of the hill-- and he stopped dead in his tracks. 

There wasn't just one dragon, but two, and they were fighting each other in midair. One was sleek and black and shadowy; the other was small and muted gold, and both seemed to be fighting with everything they had. 

The second thing he saw was two boys in the shadow of the dragon's battle-- one unfamiliar, the other very familiar indeed. He snapped out of his daze and called, "Remus!" 

His brother turned to look at him, shocked, and began sprinting towards him just as Roman did the same. They met halfway, grabbing each other's arms in relief and fear. 

"Let's go!" Remus cried, starting to pull his brother back up the hill and towards home. 

Roman, however, fixated on one thing. "Who is that?" He pointed at the cowering boy-- no, not cowering, surely, for he was brave enough to face a dragon. He must have been in trouble, or else he'd be running away too.

"I- I dunno," Remus said in frustration. "Look, he'll be okay, but we gotta get out of here!" 

"We can't just leave him there!" Roman protested, starting to make his way towards the boy.

The dragons were getting tired now, and their battle was dangerously low to the ground. Roman barely dodged a stray flare that sizzled the ground as he approached the stranger. "Hey!" he called out. "Can you hear me?" 

The boy, who hadn't yet moved from his position on his knees, slowly turned to look for the source of the new voice. His eyes landed on Roman, but he remained still.

"Come on, it's okay now," Roman said. A bit of an exaggeration, but if it would draw them both away from danger ...

"Roman, hurry up!" Remus called from the top of the hill. 

Roman held out his hand, not wanting to get too close and frighten the other boy away. "C'mon, come with me," he pleaded. "I'm not gonna hurt you. I promise." 

The boy looked up, then around, then back at Roman. Slowly and shakily, he stood up and began to stumble over towards him. They would make it.

Suddenly the boy looked overhead and stopped in his tracks, gasping. "Look out!" 

"Wha--" Roman barely had time to say before he was knocked down onto his back as a razor-sharp spear of deadly magic landed inches away from him. He looked up and took in the sight of the dark-haired, pale boy who had landed halfway on top of him and was breathing rapidly, eyes squeezed shut to prepare for the worst. 

Roman reached out on instinct, gripping his protector's hand. "Are you okay?" he asked, praying that the answer was yes. 

The boy opened his eyes. "I think so," he said softly.

Roman gasped with recognition. _My knight!_ he thought. _He looks just like him_.

"You saved me," he said aloud. 

Before they could say anything further, one of the dragons let out a screech. Whether it was one of victory or defeat was hard to tell, but all at once the black dragon was flying away, retreating to whatever dark recesses it came from, and the gold-colored dragon was sinking to the ground, exhausted but triumphant. 

********************************

"So let's get everything straight," Logan mused, scribbling words furiously on a notepad. With the dim light reflecting off his glasses, he looked and sounded much older than his nine and a half years.

"I know it sounds crazy," Desmond said.

"It doesn't," Logan said simply. "Just because you can't explain it doesn't mean it's crazy." 

Dee raised his eyebrows. "Thanks, but I turned into a dragon and back again while my cousin's having nightmares that sort of predict the future, but not always. It's okay to say that sounds crazy." 

Virgil smiled a little, a small victory in Dee's eyes. The younger boy hadn't spoken much since the incident, which had happened three days ago. In that time, Dee had managed to collect himself and ended up reasoning that he needed to tell someone about everything that had occurred. Not his parents; not any adult. " _They wouldn't believe me,_ " he'd explained to the others, but the true reason remained unspoken but known between the four boys: Desmond and Virgil had no way of knowing what would be done to them if their abilities were discovered. They could be locked up, sent away, even killed if people were fearful enough. 

This was the Edge, after all. Anything could happen. 

So the four had gone to the library to seek out information about their conditions. Histories, legends, hidden records, folk tales-- anything at all would help. Instead they'd found Logan, a boy just Dee's age who seemed wiser and more level-headed than any adult they'd ever met, and Patton, a boy who'd been ready to believe everything they told him and determined to help them no matter what. 

Nobody paid much attention to the group of whispering boys who occupied the back corner of the library nearly every day that winter. But once upon a time, there were six unlikely friends who were lucky enough to learn how much they needed each other. 

And for years, everything seemed like it would be all right. 

Then things on the Edge began to shift. 


	2. What Are We Waiting For?

Virgil returned to his home on the other side of the kingdom after the first winter. His friends had begged for him not to go, for even though he was to come back the next winter, they all knew that anything could happen in a year. 

"I'll come back. I promise," he told them, knowing that he couldn't guarantee the promise would be kept. Still, he couldn't let his fears escape, or else his friends would absorb them into their own hearts. 

As a parting gift, Logan had given him a small book with blank pages. "It might help if you write down your visions," he explained. "Then they won't be stuck inside of you anymore. You can give them to me when you come back." 

Virgil had nodded, using every ounce of strength he had not to cry. It was the first time anyone had offered him what he really wanted: to share the burden of his dreams. He didn't know whether he'd be able to give Logan that amount of knowledge (even though he knew the other boy yearned for knowledge like it was oxygen), but he held the book close to his chest and thanked him. 

Patton had cried a little-- making it impossible for Virgil to stop a few tears from escaping, but he quickly scrubbed them away-- and handed him a delicate bundle of dried and pressed flowers tied with a thin ribbon. 

"I know they're not as pretty as regular flowers, but they'll last forever this way," Patton said with a little smile. "You can keep them anywhere and they'll bring you good luck. Probably." He reached out and gave Virgil a quick, tight hug, making the pale boy's cheeks flush pink with surprise. 

Remus had offered a friendly punch on the shoulder and a crooked grin, showing off the gap where his front teeth were missing. "Hey. Thanks, V. Y'know, for not letting me get my face melted off by a dragon." 

"You're welcome, but I mean... it was really Dee who--"

"Hey Virgil?" Remus interrupted. "Shut up. You're just as brave, whether you like it or not." 

Virgil nodded silently. It was probably the nicest thing Remus had ever said to him... in his own twisted sort of way. 

As soon as Remus was through, Roman pulled Virgil aside, looking as if he'd rehearsed what he wanted to say a hundred times. "Virgil..." he said, twisting a loose thread on his sleeve. 

"Roman," Virgil responded with a little smile. 

"I... um. I know this might sound stupid," he began. 

"Yeah, probably," Virgil teased lightly. He didn't know why, but it was easy to poke fun at Roman, who always seemed to regard things so dramatically. As if everything was a storybook, or a play. 

The theatrical boy looked at him with a sense of urgency in his golden brown eyes. "I mean it. I don't know if you'll get it, but I have this... this, uh, doll that I made a long time ago. It's a knight, with a shield and a cape and everything. And I know this might be weird, but when I first met you, I thought you kind of looked like it. Or it kind of looked like you?" Roman's sparsely freckled face was bright red now. "And I don't know why, but... here. I made this. For you." He pushed something into Virgil's hands, looking everywhere except at him.

Virgil looked at the object, trying to process what he'd been told. He now held in his hands a small doll dressed as a prince, with a red sash and light brown hair. He looked back at Roman, whose own hair had hints of strawberry blond in the setting sunlight. 

"It's you?" He phrased it as a question, and Roman shrugged in response, but they both knew the answer. 

"It'll protect you," Roman said quietly. "Not that you can't protect yourself or whatever, but... yeah. I thought a knight should have a prince to keep him company." 

Virgil was truly stunned into silence. He held the doll gently, looking at it with bewilderment and confusion and gratitude. "I... wow," he said at last. 

Roman glanced up. "Wow?"

Virgil nodded. "Yeah. Wow. Thank you. I mean it."

"Oh, I- you're welcome," Roman rushed out, looking terribly relieved. "I don't know when I'll see you again, so..." He trailed off, distracted by the deep sadness in Virgil's eyes. Then before he could think better of it, he leaned forward and kissed the other boy on the cheek quickly. "Bye, Virgil."

Virgil watched his friend run off, dragging his perplexed twin behind, and leaving him alone with his thoughts and the gift he held in his hands. 

"Bye, Princey," he said softly.

**********************************

Five years went by before their paths would all cross again. 

Desmond returned to his life indoors, as quiet and solitary as it had ever been. Except it wasn't. For every night when the kingdom slept and the fields at the edge of the world were lit only by the stars and moon, Desmond would focus his inner power and summon those feelings that had surged through him the first time he'd transformed.

In a way, it didn't surprise him too much that he was a shapeshifter. It wasn't like he'd never heard of them, after all-- generations of people living on the Edge had written down their accounts of the strange and impossible phenomena they'd seen, and although it was uncommon, he _had_ been able to find stories of shapeshifters before. Dee wished he knew more about them, because he was the only living one as far as he knew, and he had plenty of questions about what and why and how. But then again, he was used to not having answers.

Rather than obsess over it for too long (that was more of Logan's thing, after all), he concentrated instead on the newfound freedom and power that his draconic form granted him. Every night, he would fly. He never went far beyond the borders of the kingdom, and he never _ever_ dared to venture beyond the Edge, but having the sky all to himself was a luxury he never could have imagined.

Now that he lived such a rich nocturnal life, he spent the majority of the daytime sleeping, but he always made sure to return to his bedroom just before sunrise. Just in case. For about two years, he could count on seeing the twins nearly every day as he always had, and they would wave to him, and he would wave back. That was it, but it was enough for both sides to know: _we're safe, you're safe, we'll see each other again_. 

Then, as he knew it would, the day came when they wouldn't run by as often as they used to. Sometimes it would just be one of them at a time, looking lost in thought. Dee would still wave, and the twins would still wave back, but the exchange grew more bittersweet each time. Eventually, three full months passed without a glimpse of Remus or Roman.

Desmond spent more and more time in his dragon form, flying around dangerously soon after sunset and before sunrise. It was more than tempting to abandon his facade of a human life altogether and simply find a cave somewhere far, far away from the kingdom and live out his life as a dragon. He'd considered it more times than he wanted to admit to himself. But he couldn't bring himself to leave the others behind, even if he didn't interact with them directly. Part of him almost wanted to get caught just so he could have an excuse to fight back. But there was no one to fight except himself. 

It was a cloudy and cool spring night when he decided to land directly in view of the kingdom. The streets were empty, but as he shifted back into his human self, he felt just as exposed as he had the day he'd first transformed. He could see the library where they'd spent those winter days sharing and scheming and dreaming, challenged with what felt like the fate of the whole kingdom on their shoulders. And next to it, the modest little cottage that had been Patton's home. He could see even at a distance that the windows were dark now, and the once-brilliant colors of the front garden had long since withered and browned. 

It hurt him in a way he hadn't thought possible. How long had the house been abandoned? Where did the curly-haired boy who'd opened his heart to everyone he met live now-- if he still lived at all? And what happened to Logan, who'd kept the little bit of order and sense in their lives intact? 

Would any of them see each other again, or was it all meant to fade away like a dream? 

Desmond stumbled around the corner, towards the back of the library where the dark and empty cottage was no longer visible. _There_. That was where he belonged, too. In the dark, hidden away from sight.

He sank down, biting his hand with his sharp left front tooth, and began to cry. He hated crying, hated the way it sounded as he stifled his sobs, hated the way it felt to have tears running down his face. And he hated crying alone. But he let himself do it for several uninterrupted minutes anyway, until he had to pause to catch his breath and wipe his eyes. That was when he noticed the muffled sound of footsteps in the grass. He hissed in anger, cursing himself for breaking down in the open like this, and jumped to his feet. 

"Who's there? What do you want?" he snapped, hoping the rasp in his voice would sound intimidating. 

A figure emerged from around the corner. "Hey, dragon. I knew I'd find you out here eventually." The voice, softer and more gentle than he'd ever heard it before, was still unmistakable. 

"...Remus?" 

It was hard to tell who initiated the embrace, but it was painful and welcome and wonderful. Dee didn't hold back his sobs, which were now intermingled with laughter as it sank in that this was _real_. How many times had he imagined calling out to Remus, inviting him inside, pulling him into his arms, his world? He'd never realized just how much he missed the wild boy's tangled hair and dirt-streaked hands. 

"Took you long enough," Remus sighed, gripping him tighter for a moment before pulling back. "I thought you'd screwed off and flown away from this place for good." 

"I- I wouldn't do that..." Dee shook his head, realizing he'd been lying to himself. "Okay, I might, but you know... I wanted to see you again." The truth of it was, as lonely as he'd felt without the others, as much as he'd missed them all, nothing could compare to the emptiness of not having Remus's unfiltered, crude... well, _Remus_ -ness.

They sat down underneath a tree wider than both of them and began to talk. Desmond explained how he'd spent the majority of his time for the past several years traversing the night sky and trying not to think about his friends. It was funny, he realized, how most of them had all been so close in proximity this whole time, yet they'd stayed in their own little worlds, keeping to themselves. As if they weren't allowed to remember how powerful, how _complete_ they'd all felt when the six of them were together. 

"Maybe we just weren't ready to meet yet," Remus said with a shrug. They both let the comment sink in for a moment and realized just how true it was. How they'd all crossed paths so briefly years ago, only to be ripped apart after a few months. He grabbed Dee's hand; both jumped a little at the cold and unexpected touch. "But I don't care anymore. I don't want to keep waiting. We're here now."

Dee nodded, interlocking his fingers with Remus's. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so happy to be human.

**********************************

When the cobwebs appeared, Roman decided he'd finally had enough.

Five years he'd been waiting. Five years he'd agonized, trying so desperately to distract himself with drawing pictures and making up stories with happy endings when he was no longer sure such endings existed. Five years he and Remus had treaded lightly on the subject of the fate of their friends, both knowing that the longer they went without hearing from them, the worse things looked. But at least his brother could see that Desmond was alive and well. Roman could only hope that Virgil-- quiet, strong, gentle Virgil-- had been able to fare as well. It wasn't looking very hopeful for him now.

He'd _promised_ , though. Roman may have only known him for a few months, but he was sure that Virgil had meant to keep that promise. And no matter how long it took, he wasn't going to give up on waiting for his knight to return. 

But oh, waiting was torture. Strange things plagued the kingdom as they always had, but they held such ominous meanings behind them now. Roman's imagination would often run wild with things that could have potentially hurt his friends. He knew that Virgil could see things before they occurred, but what about the things he couldn't see? Who was protecting him?

There was a project Roman had been working on. Just in case. He'd kept it hidden under his bed, in a box, buried underneath stacks of cloth and scraps and other things that wouldn't draw any suspicion to a passing eye. The only one he'd had to worry about discovering it was Remus-- and truth be told, he wasn't sure why he hadn't told Remus of all people. It wasn't that he didn't trust him; it was just that he didn't want anyone to know what he'd been working on unless it was absolutely necessary. 

The day he woke to find the entire kingdom covered from ground to rooftops in a thick layer of dark cobwebs, he decided it was necessary. 

He ran his hands across the plain but heavy hilt, feeling the spot where he'd managed to engrave a small sigil to mark the piece as his own. Slowly, almost ceremoniously, he pulled the small sword from its hiding place. It was finished; he knew that now. It had been finished for months; he'd just been hesitant to use it. Part of him felt as if the sturdy-looking weapon would splinter and break into useless pieces the first time he swung it against anything solid. He knew that was silly, but if he couldn't use the sword-- _his_ sword-- for something great, then what good was it at all? What good was _he_?

Roman tucked the weapon carefully in a leather sheath he'd bought from a peddler in secret. It had cost him a small fortune, but he'd had to have it. He secured it around his hips, then pulled on his boots, looking at their newly-shined tops with approval. With a scrutinizing frown, he inspected himself in the mirror that hung on the wall in between his bed and Remus's. There seemed to be something missing. 

Ah. He knew. 

A quick few tugs of a needle and thread, and he'd fashioned a sash out of his old red scarf. Against the bright white of his shirt, the crimson looked even more brilliant, and he smiled in satisfaction. Now he could almost imagine himself as the heroic fairy-tale prince he'd always wanted to be.

He set out with all the bravado of an adventurer who had no idea where he was going (which was true), and he was so enthralled with the whole situation ( _he had a sword!_ ) that he didn't notice the way the cobwebs stuck to his shoes, ruining the shine of the leather almost instantly. It seemed that no one else had ventured out of their homes, and those who had tried had been blocked in their attempts, as if the tangle of webs were a blizzard or a flood. Indeed, some of the doors he passed by were swallowed up entirely by the clingy stuff.

If it weren't for his sword, he would have been at a complete loss on how to navigate the streets. Entire stretches of land were covered in web that reached well above his head. He swung the heavy blade clumsily, hacking through the obstacles like an explorer clearing a path through the jungle. 

There was nothing to do but press on. He would have liked to say he had a plan, but the further he managed to cut and slash his way through the mess, the more he was admitting to himself that perhaps 'follow the giant spiderwebs until something happens' wasn't much of a plan. 

Everything was so eerily silent. It was as if the webs were a barrier between him and the rest of the world. 

With a sudden insatiable curiosity, he reached out with his bare hand and touched a thin, flimsy-looking section of the web. It held fast. He could feel waves of vibration coursing through it, as if it was channeling the struggle of some invisible captive, trapped inside...

He shivered. Something was very wrong. 

With effort, he managed to pry his hand away from the cobweb and shook off the bits that clung to his sleeve. He gripped his sword with both hands and looked around. Yes, the cobwebs really were more structured than he'd originally realized. They followed a uniform pattern, as if they'd been crafted by hand. Not like the random and flimsy things that grew inside old dusty corners; these were the expertly woven webs of a spider. The kind that snared its prey with ease and refused to let go.

"Well, this is certainly an adventure," Roman muttered aloud, wondering if perhaps he hadn't gotten himself in over his head.

The edge of town didn't seem to have fared any better. If anything, the web was even more impossible-looking as the buildings grew more scattered and the trees began to thicken. He was trudging headlong into the forest now, far enough from any potential help if things went awry that his sense of bravado was wearing off quickly-- but he did seem to be heading in the right direction, whatever that was worth. The vibrations of the web were strong enough now that he could feel them through his boots just by standing in place. Something-- or someone-- was definitely fighting for their life in the center of this web. Turning back now would be an act of cowardice on his part. 

The leaves on the trees were barely visible through the layers of white and gray. It was amazing how such impossibly thin threads could weave into something thick enough to block out the sunlight. Yes, everything was in shadows now. Roman held his sword straight out in front of him, ready to fend off any attackers that could be lurking. Not that he could move very quickly; every step was a risk in itself. Twice he stumbled and almost fell right into the sticky web, and he couldn't imagine how long it would take to clean that off. He had to stop every few minutes and clean his sword which was becoming more web than blade. 

A rustling sound drew his attention. He tensed, pointing the homemade weapon deliberately around him. "Who's there?" he called out quietly, not sure if he wanted to hear a response or not. The rustling stopped, and he called out again more confidently. "It's all right, I'm not here to hurt you... whoever you are." 

Roman watched in surprise as a wall-like section of the web ahead of him began to stretch forward, like something was attempting to push through. As it turned out, that was exactly what was happening. He held his breath in suspense as the silken threads broke until there was a hole wide enough for a figure to climb through. The self-assured, heroic mannerisms he'd practiced for so many years couldn't have prepared him for what emerged from the other side.

"Roman?" said the boy wielding what looked like a scythe in his right hand. In his left hand, at his side, was a shield. And judging from the look on his face, he was just as surprised, if not more, to see the other boy in the middle of the forest.

"Virgil?"

It shouldn't have been a question. Roman would have known him anywhere. 

Both let their weapons they'd been holding so vigilantly drop as they gazed at each other. Just as Roman thought he'd found the words to express his joy at seeing his friend again at last, Virgil spoke up first. "What the hell are you doing here?" 

Roman's mouth hung open for a second. Well. That wasn't what he'd expected the other to say. "I- I wanted to see if anyone needed help. Well, I mean, first I just went out to see what was going on, but then I could feel these vibrations through the web, like someone was trapped--" 

"Yeah, that was _me_ , genius," Virgil interrupted, shocking Roman even further with his coldly sarcastic tone. "I've been going around to different sections of the web and imitating prey trapped inside. Then I make it look like it's escaped, and I run to another part and do it again." He ran a gloved hand through his dark brown hair, sighing tiredly. "So that's been my day so far."

Roman shook his head, trying to process everything, trying to come up with the right words, and settled on one. "Why?"

Virgil looked at him like he'd asked why he was wearing pants in the daytime. "What do you mean 'why'? To distract it. To lure it around." 

"It?" Evidently, Roman could only form one-word responses at the moment. 

The expression on Virgil's face shifted from disdain to disbelief. "Are you serious? What do you think built all these webs, Roman?" 

The boy in the princely attire looked helplessly lost. "I- I don't know. I thought they just appeared, the way things do around here." 

"So you left your house with a sword and just decided to start swinging through it, hoping to find someone to rescue?" 

Roman shrugged, turning pink. "... Yes?"

"Good lord." Virgil shook his head and rubbed his right arm. "Well, you'd do well to turn around and go home right now. Should be easy enough to find your way; just go through that hacked mess you made." He turned to leave, as if it could be left at that. As if that was all there was to be said after five years.

No, that wasn't an option. Roman reached out and grabbed his friend's arm. "Hey! Where do you think you're going?" He looked at Virgil with intense, slightly wounded eyes. "I haven't seen you in years. I didn't know where you were, or if I'd ever see you again."

The dark-haired boy looked uncomfortable. "I told you you would. Eventually." 

"You promised you'd come back," Roman reminded him. "And then we never heard from you again."

"I told Desmond I was fine. I've just been... busy. And tired." Virgil shifted his position, tugging on the strap of the small black satchel he wore at his side. "Didn't he tell you anything?"

Roman shook his head. "No! We haven't talked to Desmond; he locked himself back up in his house like nothing ever happened. And then Logan went away to some boarding school, and not long after that, Patton just disappeared. Like we didn't all spend those months together. Like none of it mattered." He was close to shouting now, but he didn't care; nobody except Remus had known that he'd been holding onto those memories they'd made like a lifeline. They were the hope he clung to in the darkest and strangest days, and now the one person he'd wanted to talk to the most was brushing him off. 

Virgil hissed, "Lower your voice," but his face softened. "Listen, Prin- Roman, it wasn't supposed to be like this. It's not that I didn't want us to meet again; it just wasn't supposed to happen yet." 

"Why not?" Roman's pleading tone rang out across the silent forest. "I've been waiting for five years. I can't be the only one. I _know_ I'm not."

The two boys were locked in a staring match; one stubborn and determined, the other cold but conflicted. They stood there, both refusing to back down, and they might have stood there forever if the telltale screech of a giant spider hadn't descended upon them. 

Virgil swore loudly and repeatedly, drawing up his scythe and shield. "Get behind me!" he commanded. His voice wavered slightly, but he stood his ground. 

"I think not!" Roman said, maintaining a death grip on his sword. He looked around and saw what looked like the long, spindly trunk of a tree uproot itself and begin to move towards them. Or was it two trees? No, there were more-- and his worst fear was realized as he looked up and saw the fanged, eight-eyed face of a colossal spider just ahead of him and Virgil.

"I'm telling you," Virgil said to him in a low tone, "this is your only chance. You need to run right now. Just go home and everything will be fine." 

For a split second, with the horrific sight and sound looming over them, Roman wanted to believe him. He wanted to believe that the other would be able to withstand the giant arachnid alone, and yes, he wanted to run. But there was no way that was going to happen now. 

"Absolutely not," he refused, looking directly into Virgil's large, dark eyes. "I'm staying here." 

The spider wasn't moving very fast, but the sheer size and length of its steps brought its shadow directly over their heads within seconds. It let out another sound that was a combination of a hiss and a screech, clearly angry at having been strung along and sent on a fruitless chase all day. 

Virgil stepped forward, looking up at the hairy, monstrous face without any fear in his face. His hands were trembling, Roman noticed, but he shouted bravely: "Listen! I'm the one you've been chasing. I've been tearing up your web and leading you around. So if you want me, go ahead, but let him go." 

The spider seemed to be considering this until Roman spoke up, brandishing his tangled sword in front of him. "No! I've been destroying the web, see? He's just trying to protect me." 

"Princey, are you-" A thousand insults were on the tip of Virgil's tongue, but he wasn't able to get any of them out before one of the spider's legs struck down, knocking them both off their feet and into the thickness of the web. His shield fell out of his grip, but he kept his scythe in hand and tried to scramble to his feet. The spider's attention was still on Roman. Panicking, he threw the scythe at one of the towering legs in desperation. It stuck, slicing through the bristled limb and severing a good portion of it. 

The spider screamed and lunged down towards its attacker. Virgil was now completely exposed, empty of any protection, so he simply covered his face with his arms and waited for the striking blow, breathing rapidly. It didn't come, but he could feel the web quickly growing tighter, restricting any movements he could have made. He could only watch helplessly as the spider began to craft a silken net of death around him. He closed his eyes, remembering how he'd felt that day with the dragon, so certain that death was imminent. Except now, mixed in with his own fast and panicked breathing and the loud rushing in his ears, the sound of Roman screaming filled the air. 

Eventually, the darkness of complete panic overpowered everything, as it often did, and the rest of the world was shut out.

**********************************

When Virgil regained his senses, he was surprised that there was anything left. He couldn't move, which wasn't great, but he was still alive. At least, he was pretty sure he was. He could hear, which was a good sign. After a moment, he was able to focus in on the sound. 

_"Virgil!"_

Someone was calling his name, he realized. Slowly, he opened his eyes-- still unable to move his arms or legs, or any part of his body, really-- and turned his head. This was a situation he'd been in before, and a mix of emotions flooded through his as he saw Roman-- first relief that he was alive, then frustration that he was bound from neck to toe in web in the same way, then guilt and devastation as he realized that he hadn't been able to save him after all. 

He'd seen this coming. It had been the clearest vision yet, and he'd seen it the night before. He'd done everything he could. And he still couldn't save him. 

"Oh god, you're okay," Roman sighed in relief. 

"If this is what you consider 'okay'," Virgil answered dryly. Then, "...Are _you_ okay?" 

Roman nodded. "Yeah. You really pissed that thing off. I thought it killed you, until I saw that it was wrapping you in the web, but then you weren't trying to move, so I didn't know..." 

Virgil listened to the other boy's rambling, heart aching. Did Roman really still harbor so many feelings about him, even after all this time? Or was it the way he would have acted for anybody? Or was it both? Knowing Roman, he supposed it could have been both. 

"Where'd it go?" he finally asked, not sure if he wanted to know the answer. 

Roman tried to shrug, realized he couldn't, sighed, and then responded, "I don't know. Away. I guess it's coming back to finish us off later." 

Later. For the first time since he'd spotted Roman in the woods, a pang of hope shot through Virgil. "How long has it been?"

"I'm not sure. An hour, maybe? The sun's setting." 

It was. The shadows were deeper now, and the silvery color of the web-forest had darkened to a muted gray. Virgil's thoughts slowly collected, and the thought that they would both survive after all began to stir. "It's almost night, then."

"That's usually what sunset means, yeah."

"Not the time for sarcasm, Princey." Virgil forced himself to keep his voice low and even. "You know as well as I do that no matter what happens at the Edge, it never lasts more than a day. The aftermath is still there, but the thing itself will disappear."

Even in the dying sun, the way Roman's eyes lit up was unmistakable. "So if we last through the night..."

"Then we'll make it," Virgil finished. It was a long shot. He wasn't sure whether the spider knew of its own life span-- probably not, but who knew? Still, the glimmer of hope inside him was magnified by Roman's growing smile. He really hadn't changed in five years, Virgil thought. The idealism, the heroism, the complete lack of planning. Only dreaming. And the golden streaks in his hair. 

He only realized he might have been staring when Roman spoke up again. "Hey, Virgil?" He sounded hesitant, almost shy. "This may not be the time to ask this..."

Virgil couldn't help but smile a little despite himself. "What, the time when we may or may not live to see the morning?"

"All right, touché." Roman paused, and Virgil hoped he hadn't changed his mind. After a few seconds, he continued. "I know when you first saw me here, you were... I don't know, angry. Annoyed. Confused, scared, upset?" 

"No, no, yes, yes, and no," Virgil affirmed quietly. "Mostly scared." 

Roman sighed in relief. "So it wasn't anything I said, then. Or did."

"Oh no, it was _everything_ you did," Virgil corrected. "When you showed up here, all I could think was 'I can't believe that even though I lured the giant spider away from the town, this heroic idiot is still on a quest to save the kingdom'."

He offered a half-smile to soften his words, but Roman still frowned, deep in thought. "So you knew the spider was a danger. I understand that, at least. And I can see why you'd try to keep it away. But why..." He took a deep breath, feeling like he shouldn't ask the question. "Why did you panic so badly when you saw me?"

Virgil knew that answering the question would only lead to more questions, ones he wasn't ready to answer, but he felt he owed Roman the truth. "Because in my vision, when it attacked the kingdom, you were the first one out there to fight against it. You didn't even hesitate, just... put yourself in harm's way to protect people. And, um... it didn't end well for you." He fell silent, still shaken from the memory of the vivid nightmare.

After Virgil had collected himself, Roman said, "I'm sorry." 

"Don't be. It's not your fault."

"That wasn't all I wanted to ask you, though," he confessed.

Virgil could hear the smile in his voice. It made him even more nervous than he had been before. "What?" 

Roman looked at the other boy, wondering if he was even aware of it. "You've called me Princey twice today. Is that how you think of me?" Although it was nearly dark, he could see the color in Virgil's face shift to red. It almost made him feel a little guilty. Almost. 

"I don't really have to answer that, do I?" Virgil said at last, sounding pained. "Make fun of me if you want, but you're the one who left me with a doll that looks like you dressed as a prince, and then you show up years later dressed the same as the doll."

Now it was Roman's turn to blush. "Well, I didn't _know_ I would see you today!" he protested. "And what about you, dressed all in black with that shield like some sort of... vigilante warrior knight." 

"Oh? Is that how you think of me?" Virgil imitated Roman's tone, trying not to laugh at the expression on his face. "I don't always look like this. You found me on a good day, I suppose."

They both fell silent for awhile, almost forgetting their whereabouts as the peaceful twilight turned to night. Roman wasn't even sure if the other boy was still awake as he said, "Virgil?"

"Hmm?" 

"I think you were wrong earlier," he said quietly. "I think we _were_ meant to meet again today. And I think tomorrow-- when the sun rises, when we wake up, free of this web-- we should find the others. I think it's time." 

Virgil closed his eyes and nodded. "You're right. Promise me we'll wake up. Please."

"We will. I promise," Roman said with absolution in his voice. "Good night, my knight."

"Good night... my prince." 

**********************************

Logan stepped outside of the front gates of the boarding school where he'd spent the last four and a half years. Not once had he planned to leave. Not once had he pictured himself stealing a stack of confidential record books, hiding them in his bag, and taking off in the middle of the night without a word. It wasn't like him at all. He was a model student, a follower of rules, and definitely not someone to run away from responsibilities. 

But sometimes, things just happened. Sometimes there were familiar-looking garden keepers who were sweet and trustworthy enough to get keys to places that they shouldn't have had access to. Sometimes curiosity and the prospect of greatness outweighed what Logan knew to be a stable and respectable life. 

Sometimes if the gardener asked the future scholar to run away with him in the middle of the night, there was nothing to do but say yes.

Sometimes people would meet again for a reason. 


End file.
